


ways and means

by Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Cassian Andor-centric, Friendship, Gen, Gen Work, POV Cassian Andor, Platonic Relationships, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-27 21:09:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17774273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome/pseuds/Pontmercyingtilthecowscomehome
Summary: A small moment in Cassian and Jyn's friendship, in which their very different methods of problem-solving are discussed. Years later, Cassian reflects on the conversation.





	ways and means

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frausorge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frausorge/gifts).



Cassian has always known there is a right way to do things and a wrong way to do them. That doesn’t mean one is legal and one isn’t, because if anything, going from a childhood spent as a Separatist freedom fighter to working alongside former leaders of the Republic in the Rebellion, is that laws matter little. Unfortunately, that same upbringing also taught him him that’s what right is not always fair, nor easy. Right is, in fact, usually the hardest of any possible option.

Which is why he has a headache, because he’s yet again come in contact with a third, baffling way of doing things. The _Jyn_ way.

“I can’t believe you took that,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. They’re standing in a small kitchen deep inside Echo Base, where the chill of Hoth is replaced by the low humming warmth of an oven. Sometimes. When it works.

“They had plenty.”

The small jar of real Vivi’ani smoked pepper sits between them on the table. A single teaspoon of the powder could go for as many credits as a brand-new landspeeder. Cassian sighs. “Plenty of spices. They did not have plenty of that one.”

She shrugs. “I sniffed a bunch. Took the best one”

“We were on a mission!”

“Yeah.” Jyn opens the jar, shakes a little into her hand. Presses a finger into the soft red powder, and then, carefully, licks it off. “Wow.”

He’s had Viv’ani pepper only once, when he was deep undercover as a senatorial aid, and it had been served on flatbread used to dunk into a rich Uuiji fish bisque. He’d considered tucking a few pieces into his pocket, saving them for later. Imagined how they’d taste with a fried egg on top, how warm and home-like they’d be, compared to the bland food served on base. Considered, and chose not to. It wasn’t right to steal something that would benefit only him. He had no qualms about robbing a supply ship or downloading vital information without a permit, but he couldn’t steal just because he liked the taste of something.

Meanwhile, Jyn… had.

“We had one job in that house,” Cassian sighs. Remembers every detail of the mission, his memory highlighting exactly when he’d let Jyn go off on her own, because she swore she had a _hunch._ One of these days, he needed to learn her hunches always lead to chaos, eventually. “One. Singular. Job. Get the droid. Get out.”

“And we did that,” Jyn offers him the spice shaker. “So, celebrate.”

“The time for celebration is after the war is over.”

“What if we don’t get to see it?” Jyn shakes her head. There’s a long scar on her cheek from the mission to Scarif, and he knows there’s countless more he can’t see. Not only on her skin, but her heart too. They’re both badly broken, they’re both survivors and fighters. But he can’t allow himself the luxuries Jyn acquires.

Jyn has joined the Alliance, but her greatest act of rebellion is her insistence on _living_. Not just surviving. Not just completing missions. That’s the Jyn way, in essence. Doing what needs to be done, not only for the cause, but for her too.

He admires it, sometimes, as much as he’s frustrated by it at other times. But in this moment, when his hand closes around the shaker, he admits he envies it. Wishes he too could see life as a thing to be seized, pleasure as a goal as much as any battle objective. For him, duty comes above all else. Right or wrong.

Except for the times Jyn has challenged him. Made him remember that _right_ and _wrong_ are still subjective terms, that things are never as simple as he’d like them to be.

But in the case of this spice-shaker, well, at least this one is simple. He takes it from her and says, “this will buy us at least three new X-wings.”

“Absolutely not.” Jyn lunges forward, grabs it, and quickly shoves it into a deep inner pocket of her vest.

“Jyn.”

“It was a gift. To you. Not to the Rebellion.”

But for Cassian, they are one and the same. He watches her leave, with only the faintest memory of the heat of the pepper to keep him warm. Watches her leave, and wonders what a life lived the Jyn way would truly be like. But then, his comm beeps with a new mission, and spice, kitchen, and friend, are all forgotten for a time.

* * *

 

Time passes. The Rebellion achieves all they hoped for,though not without great cost and the New Republic is born. Right and wrong become muddled with the laws drawn up by the new government, as the fight fades from battlefields into contracts and treaties. Cassian, of course, is one of the last soldiers to leave his mission, to the point where it’s actually the now-famous Luke Skywalker, the Jedi himself, who finds Cassian to tell him the war is over.

Cassian blinks at the man in swirling dark robes in front of him. “Over?” that had been what Luke had said, he’s sure of it. He’s just not sure what way to go, not without orders.

“Yes,” Luke smiles at him, revealing he still is that youthful pilot Cassian met briefly on Echo Base. “You were quite hard to find.”

“Intelligence officers always are, if we’re doing thing right.” He hesitates, feels his heart thudding hard, the fear of this new unknown threatening to drown him. For a moment he’s back on Scarif, back, so close to the end of it all, and yet, so full of hope. “Did… did whoever send you include any notes?”

Notes? He has to scoff at his own word. Who gives notes to an exhausted, scarred soldier? A… veteran. He’s a veteran now. His war is over. His idea of right, of wrong, all of that is over now, too.

So what does he do now?

“Actually,” Luke plunges his hand in a pocket. “She did.”

Ah. She. It was probably Leia Organa then. She must have sent Luke with a summons for Cassian to take up a senatorial seat or become a diplomat. Another role, another set of morals, another place to learn what right and wrong will mean. He';ll do it, of course, though he doesn't know how to. He hadn't known how to be a spy, either. He can learn. Even if he doesn't want to. Even if part of him longs for another option. A different way.

Instead, Luke hands him a small box. He opens it with a hand that only trembles a little. There, inside, is the jar of Vivi’ani peppers. It’s just as full as it had been a few years ago, though the label is a little more faded. The note is clearly in Jyn’s handwriting, mainly because it’s almost illegible. But he knows her well enough to be able to read it. And he understands her well enough that he’s smiling by the time he’s finished reading.

_“War’s over. Time to taste what peace is like.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcome! :) Thanks for reading!


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